Liria reached behind the carved back of her chair, feeling along the polished living wood in search of the small body tucked behind it.
The solar was bright with morning light. Fresh gold spilled through the latticework walls in long, slanting beams, catching on drifting pollen and tiny motes of dust that turned lazily in the air. The room itself had been grown rather than built, its walls and ceiling curved from the pale white wood of the World Tree, smooth as polished bone and faintly luminous from within. Outside, high beyond sight, the endless canopy whispered in the early breeze. Golden leaves rustled like soft chimes.
There was a slight rustling of fabric behind her chair, followed by the sound of someone pressing themselves flatter against the wood.
Her hand met empty air.
"Seris," Liria called patiently, keeping her tone light, "are you ready now? Haven't you been hiding for long enough? I would like to introduce you to my siblings."
From somewhere behind her came a small, aggrieved voice: "Do I have to?"
Liria bit back a smile. "Yes."
At that, a few expressions shifted around the room.
Her eldest brother Aethon sat in severe stillness, his silver-gold hair falling over one shoulder. Beside him, Seralyth reclined with elegant ease, long fingers idly tracing the rim of her teacup. Thalanor sat upright and silent as carved stone, while Vaelir sprawled with lazy insouciance. Ilyrien had a book open on her lap that she had not turned a page of in the last ten minutes, and Kaerthis, perched near the windows where the fresh morning light touched her hair, looked far too delighted by the entire situation.
No one said anything.
"Please," Liria said more softly. "I want you to get along. Bear with it for my sake."
There was a long pause.
Then, with all the grim resignation of a condemned man marching toward the execution block, Seris finally emerged from behind her chair.
His little face was set in a frown so tragic that Kaerthis made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like she was trying not to laugh.
Liria held out her arms. "Come here."
Seris took one wary step forward, then another. But when she reached to lift him into her lap, he flinched back so quickly his heel caught on the leg of the chair.
Liria blinked. "Seris?"
Her younger brother looked deeply conflicted. His gaze flicked from Liria to her older siblings, then back again. His fingers curled into the hem of his tunic.
Finally, in a small voice, he muttered, "I don't want to hurt you, big sister."
The room went still.
Seris stole another quick glance at her siblings, as if bracing for judgment, but apart from Ilyrien raising one elegant eyebrow, none of them reacted.
He sagged with relief.
Liria sighed and opened her arms again. "I already told you it's fine for now, didn't I? Come here."
Seris eyed her suspiciously. "Really?"
"Yes, really. Have I ever lied to you?"
"You never told me my touch hurts you," he accused, a wounded little frown settling onto his face. "That's lying."
"No, it isn't," Liria said at once, perhaps a touch too quickly. "And I was always going to tell you later, after everything was over. I've never lied."
Seris set his jaws stubbornly, digging his heels in.
"A lie of…" he trailed off, his brows furrowing as he tried to remember the right word.
"... of commission?" he said uncertainly, and Ilyrien immediately corrected him.
"Of omission, child." Her older sister's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "The correct term is: a lie of omission."
"Thank you, nice lady!" Seris gave Ilyrien a quick bow, then whirled on Liria again, expression fierce: "A lie of omission is still lying! You should have told me!"
"Kid's right, Liria," Vaelir chuckled. Then his eyes sharpened: "You should have told all of us."
"Hn," said Thalanor.
"We agree," Seralyth said pleasantly.
Kaerthis nodded at once. "Very much."
Aethon said nothing, which somehow made his disapproval worse.
"See?" Seris's expression was triumphant. "Your family agrees with me!"
Seven pairs of eyes focused on her with unnerving intensity, and Liria wilted before the combined pressure.
"But…" Liria hated how childish her voice sounded. "I have a right to my own privacy…"
"No." Aethon curtly cut her off. "We're family. You do not get to keep your pain private."
He levelly held her gaze: "The next time you're hurt or troubled, we want to know immediately. Not after everything's over. Not whenever you feel like it. Immediately."
The room felt warmer all of a sudden. Too warm.
"Please, big sister." Seris looked up at her with enormous, damp eyes that should have been illegal. "Promise me?"
He looked around the room, taking in her siblings one by one, then amended with solemn importance:
"Promise us?"
Vaelir snorted. "You're not so bad, kid."
"Cute," Kaerthis whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Liria felt her stress climbing. It was good that Seris was getting along with her siblings, but did they have to do it at her expense?
"I do not make promises I'm not certain I can keep," she hedged. "My promises are not that cheap."
"Good." Aethon sternly said. "That's how it should be. Now promise you'll confide in us more Liria."
A brief staring contest followed.
"Fine." Liria sighed. "I promise I'll confide in you more."
She hoped they'd just let it go with this. "More" was vague enough to give her plenty of wiggle room.
Ilyrien gave Liria a thoroughly unimpressed look: "Promise you'll confide in us immediately whenever you get hurt or get into trouble."
No such luck.
She tried to at least meet her siblings halfway: "I promise that if I ever get into trouble, I'll wait no more than three days before confiding in you, barring extenuating circumstances."
Silence settled between them.
Outside, a breeze moved through the World Tree's golden canopy with a long sighing hush. Somewhere beyond the walls, a flock of bright-feathered birds cried out and scattered into the light.
Inside, her family looked deeply unimpressed.
Liria folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Take it or leave it."
The silence stretched.
Then Seralyth, mercifully, set down her teacup with a quiet click.
"We should give Liria some space."
Liria nearly slumped in relief.
Seralyth offered her a small, amused smile. "You've all seen that she can take care of herself."
Vaelir snorted. "That is not the same thing as being trustworthy with her own wellbeing."
"It is enough for today," Seralyth said lightly, though the finality beneath the softness was unmistakable.
Aethon did not look pleased, but after a moment he gave a single curt nod.
Before anyone could reopen the argument, Liria reached for Seris, placed her hands carefully on his shoulders, and turned him to face her siblings.
The child's spine went rigid under her palms.
"Brothers, sisters," she said, forcefully dragging the derailed discussion back on-topic. "I'd like to introduce you to my ward, Seris."
She paused, observing their reactions. It seemed her brothers and sisters were content to let her direct the conversation for now.
"Seris, meet my siblings." She continued, pointing them out in order, from the eldest to the youngest. "This is Aethon, Seralyth, Thalanor, Vaelir, Ilyrien, and Kaerthis. Say hello."
Seris hesitantly bowed. He was still a little shy, but at least the skittish nervousness was gone. Ganging up on her together with her older siblings had been a great bonding experience. Liria wasn't certain how she should feel about this.
Aethon studied the child in silence.
The morning light from the windows struck the planes of his face and caught in the pale gold of his hair, turning him into something austere and almost statue-like. His gaze, when it rested on Seris, was not unkind. Merely searching.
"So this is the child," he said at last. "I find it difficult to believe he is the same Lich King from your memories."
"Because he's not," Liria said immediately, sharper than she intended.
Every eye in the room turned to her. She steadied her tone and spoke again, slower this time, each word deliberate.
"Seris is a victim whose body and soul were consumed by the dead god to resurrect itself. He is innocent."
The room went very quiet.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Seris twisted in her lap and looked up at her.
"Big sis?" There was no accusation in his voice at first. Only confusion. Then his expression slowly shifted as pieces clicked into place behind those far-too-perceptive eyes. "What haven't you told me?"
Liria froze.
"You haven't told the child yet?" Ilyrien clicked her tongue. "That's irresponsible, Liria."
"You're Seris's guardian now." Vaelir agreed, for once not smiling. "Do better."
Liria felt a little resentful. It was good to see them getting along, but why were they all ganging up on her? Did they have any idea how hard it had been for Liria to accept Seris? She knew she was being childish, but…
"Do not be mean to my big sis!" Seris whirled back to face them, his voice so fiercely protective that Liria felt heat rise to her ears.
"Big sis…" the child sounded conflicted for half a beat before rallying: "Big sis must have her reasons!"
Seralyth gave a delighted laugh, soft as wind through silk.
"What beautiful sibling love." She leaned forward, smiling at him. "But she's our sibling too, you know that, right Seris?"
Seris frowned at her with grave seriousness. "She's your little sister," he said stubbornly. Then he went quiet as a faint blush crept over his face.
Kaerthis's smile turned helplessly fond. "Go on, dear."
Seris gathered himself. Then, with immense dignity, he declared: "She's your little sister, so you have to share."
He lifted his chin proudly. "I'm the only one allowed to call her big sis!"
Silence fell, and for a long moment, her siblings just stared at him.
Then everyone in the room broke.
Vaelir laughed first, loud and helpless. Kaerthis folded in half with delighted giggles. Even Seralyth pressed her fingers to her lips, shoulders shaking. Thalanor's mouth actually twitched. Aethon looked pained by his own amusement. Ilyrien shut her eyes as if this was all beneath her, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Liria could feel her face heating.
"Okay," Vaelir said at last, wiping at one eye. "He is definitely not the Lich King."
Aethon exhaled slowly, amusement fading first from his expression.
"You owe him the full story, Liria." His voice was stern again, though not unkind. "The child deserves the truth."
Seris was looking up at her once more, his green eyes wide and attentive.
Liria drew in a careful breath.
The scent of light-warmed wood and flowering sap filled her lungs. Outside, the leaves whispered. Somewhere far below, the living fortress hummed faintly with ancient magic.
"I'm sorry, Seris," she said quietly. "There's one very important thing I haven't told you yet."
He sat very still.
"You see, Seris..." She forced herself not to look away. "Big sis came from the future, and our meeting was no coincidence."
She held his gaze as steadily as she could. "Do you believe me?"
Seris's lower lip quivered. For one terrible moment, Liria thought he would cry.
"I see," he said, his voice very small. "So in the future you came from, the dead god Vhal took over my body and did something very bad, and big sister traveled back in time to stop it."
He looked up at her with trembling eyes: "Is that what happened?"
A low whistle broke the silence.
"Damn," Vaelir murmured. "I can see why the dead god chose him."
Liria only stared.
She had rehearsed this conversation a dozen different ways in her head. None of them had included Seris understanding everything in under ten seconds.
"You..." She blinked. "You got it, Seris." Then, because she was still reeling: "You believe I came from the future? Just like that?"
Seris looked at her as if she had asked him whether the sky was blue.
"Big sis is a Goddess," he said with absolute conviction. "Of course you can time travel."
A strangled sound escaped somewhere to her left. Possibly Vaelir. Possibly Kaerthis.
Liria stared at Seris, then let out a helpless breath and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Oh, Seris."
He was so slight in her arms. Too slight. Too fragile for the monstrous future waiting behind him like a shadow.
"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. When we first met, I couldn't be sure if you were..." She hesitated, unable to force the words out cleanly. "Well. You."
She pressed her cheek briefly to his hair. "Please forgive me, Seris."
He sniffled against her shoulder.
"And I am not a goddess," Liria added after a moment, because some principles had to be defended even in the face of complete futility.
Seris did not dignify that statement with a response.
He merely buried his face harder into her shoulder and continued crying as though the matter were beneath discussion.
Liria held him and stroked his back in slow, soothing circles.
She could feel the slight trembling under his skin. The faint, wrong chill that always lingered in him. The subtle drag of corrupted divinity woven through his existence like poison in clear water.
When his tears finally ran dry, he lifted his head.
His lashes were still wet. His nose was red. His expression, however, had hardened into something grim and determined enough to look almost comical on a child his age.
"I'm not angry at you," he said, voice thick with the remnants of tears. "Big sis did nothing wrong."
He tightened both hands in the fabric of her sleeves.
"You said you could cure me, big sister." His voice was desperate. "Please do it. I don't care what happens to me. Anything is better than that future."
Something in Liria's chest clenched so hard it almost hurt.
"Of course, Seris." She stroked a hand over his hair, smoothing down the dark strands. "Leave it to big sis."
She looked deep into Seris's green eyes, once again trying to find any traces of that cold and malign intellect, but the taint in Seris was as blinding as ever. She saw nothing.
Even if the dead god Vhal was watching through his eyes, would she be able to tell?
Should she send Seris to another room for now? Or would separating from him leave Seris vulnerable to the dead god? She hated this feeling of stumbling around in the dark.
Liria pondered on the malicious nature of the taint. In the future, she hadn't cared—the only good necromancer was a dead necromancer—but how many innocent victims like Seris had been doomed in this earlier era because the taint had rendered them beyond understanding, beyond help?
"Seris," she said as gently as she could. "I'll need to discuss something very important with my older siblings now. Could you close your eyes and ears?"
"Oh." Seris's face crumpled, but only for a very brief moment. He remained as heartbreakingly, painfully perceptive as ever.
"I understand." He nodded bravely, burrowing his face into her shoulder, hands pressing hard on his ears. "I will not let that evil spirit see and hear anything."
His words were muffled against her shoulder, warm and damp with lingering tears. His small body pressed close to hers with the trust of someone who believed she could solve anything, survive anything, fix anything, if only he held on tightly enough.
Liria's breath caught.
She wrapped him in an isolation field and an anti-divination ward anyway, feeling like the world's worst sister as she wove her spells, taking care so that her magic wouldn't brush against him.
She looked up to meet her siblings' somber gazes.
"I see," Vaelir cracked his shoulders. "Time to get to the main topic."
"You can cure him?" Ilyrien's expression sharpened with intrigue. "That should be impossible. How?"
Liria let her magic speak for her.
Light blossomed from her fingertips in a soft flare of gold-white radiance. It spilled into the air, unfurling into spinning circles of script and layered geometric arrays. Formulae folded into one another in luminous strands. Sigils interlocked. Conceptual anchors bloomed and dissolved and reformed in elegant, impossible patterns until the entire solar glowed with suspended magic.
Ilyrien rose to her feet without seeming to realize she had done so.
She stepped closer, pale eyes scanning the spellwork with increasing intensity. Reflected glyphs moved over her face and throat like living constellations. For a long while, she said nothing.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Of course," she said, sounding faintly dazed. "Since purifying the child in the conventional manner would tear his body apart through the collision of opposing energies, you are bypassing the surface layer of reality altogether and inverting his existence at the conceptual level."
Vaelir folded his arms.
"Very normal," he said dryly. "Very ordinary. Absolutely not a divine miracle."
"Why inversion?" Aethon asked. "Does your ritual have to be so extreme?"
"Because darkness and light are opposite sides of the same coin, and flipping a coin over is easier than reshaping it into something new," Liria replied. "The act is also easy to visualize. Imagery and symbolism is very important in high-level spellwork. I do worry that I will change too much, though."
She reached out and made a series of minute alterations. Several smaller circles folded inward, surrounding a central nexus of glowing script.
"I plan to anchor Seris's core personality, memories, and sense of self as the fixed axis around which his existence will flip. Do you think this will work, sister?"
"Hmm, I'd do it like this…"
An hour passed.
Seralyth languidly stretched, Ilyrien slumped down in her seat, and Kaerthis suppressed a yawn. The revisions were finally done.
Liria gave the calculations a final once-over. Everything had to be perfect for her little brother.
Seris was sleeping in her arms, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath.
Aethon had gone on ahead to prepare the ritual location.
Thalanor sat in quiet meditation while Vaelir was absentmindedly going through a mountain of paperwork. They snapped to attention the moment they felt Liria's gaze.
"About time." Vaelir said, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. With a lazy flick of his fingers, the stacks of documents vanished back into his subspace storage.
Then his expression sobered.
"I still think you're rushing this," he said, brows furrowed. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"
"We already went over this," Liria said, pushing down her apprehension. "I'll be fine."
Her siblings had all been broadly supportive of the plan right up until the moment they learned what it would cost her. Then, suddenly, everyone had opinions. Even Seris had tried to protest between tears.
Liria loved them, she truly did, but they were being ridiculous. Yes, the ritual would temporarily weaken her. Yes, it would leave her soul exhausted and seal her ritual magic for a time. Yes, recovery would likely take months. But compared to what was at stake for Seris, it was barely worth mentioning.
Liria wished she could afford to experiment first. She wished she had more time.
There were too many unknowns. Too many variables she could not fully account for. While her little brother's very existence was hanging on by a thread.
And still, Seris had spent more energy worrying about her than himself. It was absurd.
She could only hope that her preparations had been enough.
The living wood of Starleaf Aerie faded away around her as Ilyrien took her hand, and they emerged at the foot of Mount Aurelis, holy land of the Church of Light.
The mountain rose before them in vast, pale majesty, its slopes silvered under the heavens, its summit wreathed in sacred radiance. Marble stairways carved into the mountainside gleamed under the morning light. White banners snapped in the wind. Far above, cathedral spires and sanctified terraces clung to the mountain like stars brought down to earth.
Liria took a slow, steadying breath.
If she failed to purge the taint, then Vhal would have all the time in the world to reclaim what it had once stolen.
All the time in the world to give Seris a fate worse than death while she lay too weak to stop it.
She only had one shot at this. It was do or die.